


behind closed eyes

by melancholarie



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, dont worry, everything is explained, gender ambiguous reader, reader is a dream catcher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 16:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13768020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholarie/pseuds/melancholarie
Summary: It’s ridiculous and old-fashioned, yet you find yourself chuckling airily all the same, letting your head fall forward, stray strands of hair framing your face. “Court me? Do perish the thought.”“I shan’t,” He replies, voice tinged with amusement. “Why should I?”You can’t seem to think of a proper rebuttal. “Well, we’ve only just met.”“So shouldn’t we give it a try, at the very least?”





	behind closed eyes

**Author's Note:**

> uhh ayyy lmao... its ya boi... back at it again... havent updated my other grillby fic in a year... lmao....  
> /edit: fixed a bunch of typos

Brittle, cold night air snapped at your cheeks as you slid across the rooftop; stone tiles lying at a smooth incline against your bare feet. The moon was high overhead, and goodness you were _late_.

The last meeting with the rest of the Dreamcatchers… could’ve gone better, if you were to be perfectly honest. Apparently monsters had finally broken back out from that damp hole they had been crammed into, and many of the elders were still heavily oppositional to the poor things being out and about again. The young Dreamcatcher who was assigned to the Mount Ebott region had crept in the low light, heavy tears overflowing in her owlish eyes, pleading to be assigned to a different location. And she was such a young, delicate little thing, wasn’t she? She had sprawled so helplessly at your feet, face wrought with turmoil, literally begging to be sent somewhere else. The rest of the elders fell to her charms, and now you- a quiet, nomadic catcher with nowhere else to go- had been switched around with her.

Not that you really minded all that much, of course. You came into existence long before monsters were even imprisoned to begin with, and probably held more respect for their kind than most of the other Dreamcatchers. Though initially you had only shown up as a representative for the small groups of wandering nomads who travelled from territory to territory, your historic seat among the top few was secure. Taking a monster-inhabited region wouldn’t hurt really your position too greatly.

A nimble leap brings you atop a warm chimney, and although the smoke has long ceased to flow out, its scent clings to your nose through the thin air. You drop down the narrow entrance quickly, kicking up sleepy clouds of ash which quickly settle into obscurity.

The job of a Dreamcatcher is simple- during the night, you fed off the magic of pleasant dreams and helped chase away night terrors to the darkness they emerged from; and during the day, you slowly released that magic back into the region to grow and find its way back into the inhabitants’ slumbering minds. It was an old-fashioned job, with an even older process, all to protect the people and nurture their homes. And, to put things simplest, you loved it.

Delicate feet floating you down a hallway, you peek into the nearest sleep-laden room. It’s a little disappointing to be greeted with a human child- whatever happened to the so-called “beastly monstrosities” that young flower had sobbed so pitifully about?- but you push your wondering back to grasp around for your bag of charms. Many would consider the contents of the bag junk, really; but you wouldn’t replace them for all the gold in the world.

Gently scenting out all those warm feelings from their dream, you quietly pad on to the next room and freeze. A large goat is slumbering on her side, soft white fur splayed out across the pillow. A monster! What a surprise, you thought this was a human household. Her dream is full of empathy, and a strong sense of home- _oohh, yes,_ that would serve you nicely.

You unwrap the string keeping your bag shut and feel around within it for a well-worn symbol, delicately carved out of wood. The surface is smooth and hard against the palm of your hand, and you grasp it tightly as you let your eyes slowly close.

Almost instantaneously, your senses are assaulted by everything going on around you. Magic trembles through the air wildly, clearly unrefined by any being for at least a thousand years. Breathing deeply to focus onto your desire to imbibe, to take - the monster’s dream slowly bubbles out from the fog of the night. Feelings of warmth and kinship radiate towards you, and you find yourself greedily absorbing some of it- not enough to affect the dream, mind you- just enough to encapsulate your chest with comfort. The charm tingles with positive energy within your hand, and you slowly drop it back into the sack as your eyes open. The contents clack against one another quietly as you loop the cord around the opening of the bag once more, pulling it taut and fastening it back on your hip.

That went perfectly smoothly, what could there possibly be to complain about?

-

 

A few hours later, you’ve skimmed through a few houses, and everything has been going smoothly. Some dreams, however, will have to go neglected tonight- spending extra time to learn the layout of this town was clearly a mistake- but what you’ve seen so far has been almost painfully easy. No worries about city lights, security cameras, or caffeinated students pulling all-nighters; simply carefree skimming around from home to home.

At least, until **it** happens.

Deciding to loop around on your way back, you stopped on a faux-snow covered roof and slipped in through a window. It’s certainly a cute, tidy little home, you consider before dipping into the first room on your left. Little framed bones seem to dance playfully as the moon scatters across their glass, twinkling at you as you duck past them. The room appears to be that of a child's, the soft shag rug tickling playfully at your feet as you glide closer to the bed. You’re just beginning to reach out for some sense of the dream, when-

The lights click on, and a rough baritone voice behind you makes itself known.

“i thought i told you to never come back here again.” Slippers scuffle against carpet as the source of the voice draws nearer.

You take a deep breath to will your tensing shoulders back down. The person pauses, and everything seems to stop for a moment as magic begins crackling angrily through the air, leaving a harsh, metallic bite in your mouth. Instinctively, you run your tongue along your teeth as if blood had dirtied them, the sides of your mouth pinching into a slight frown. You turn around.

Your confronter is a skeleton, dressed in rather odd clothing, his left eye humming loudly with energy. His expression is fierce, determined, furious; but strangely your being only responds with worry at the heavy bags under his eyes. He seems to falter upon seeing your mask, shock and confusion scattering across his face briefly before vanishing under a well-practiced serious guise.

“Please, pardon me.” Your voice is raspy, quiet but steady- when was the last time you spoke? It had been a while since your last slip-up. “I do believe you have me confused for someone else.”

“…maybe i do, maybe i don’t.” His frown drops, now looking unsettlingly emotionless. “what are you doing here?”

You clear your throat, trying to summon up the most professional tone possible. “I am the new Dreamcatcher for this region. I am here to do my job.”

His face twists in thought, looking you up and down as the sensation of magic prickling on your skin slowly dies away. “and that would be?”

“I come and tend to your environments, physical and mental. I keep night-fears away, and help maintain a healthy flow of natural dream magic.” It’s the same description every one of your kind is taught to say during confrontations, even the youngest of trainees knowing each word by heart. “This is my first night here; I do apologise if I’ve disturbed you.”

The skeleton seems to consider your words seriously, though you can feel his gaze boring into your SOUL until, after what seems like ages, he looks away, apparently satisfied.

“well, okay then.” There’s still a hint of hesitance hanging in his voice, but he looks up at you apologetically and you figure he’s friendly enough. “what’s your name?”

“You may call me whatever you would like.”

“expardon me?”

“I have many of your ‘names,’ from all the different people of the regions I have cared for in the past. But my soul is not tied down to a single name. Call me whatever you wish.”

He looks surprised at that, but extends a hand anyways. “i’m sans. sans the skeleton.”

You ignore the outstretched hand, glancing out into the hallway. Too much time has been lost through this conversation, it would be best to simply move on as quickly as possible. “Nice to have met you. I must take my leave.”

Sans begins to say something but you’ve already headed out into the hallway and back out the window, leaping from the sill to the next home without another glance back.

If you had thought to look, you’d have probably noticed an astonished skeleton peering out, curiously watching your departure.

-

 

It takes a little extra effort, but you somehow make up the majority of your lost time very well. You’ve soon finished looping around to where you began with some time to spare- or so you thought. This was a restaurant, right? Yet somebody was asleep inside… You slithered down to glance at the burnt-out neon light in front. Sunlight hadn’t yet peeked over the horizon, so you wouldn’t have long... better make this quick.

The large, deep-set window is an easy target and you gracefully slip inside, landing tip-toed on the hardwood floor. It’s decorated quite elegantly, and it appears to be more of a bar rather than a restaurant like you initially thought. There’s probably just a drunkard asleep in the back, you figure, this won’t take long at all. Lightly stepping across the room and through the kitchen, the trail of slumber guides you up a set of stairs and into a hallway. From here, it almost appears as though this was a home; just squashed on top of the bar.

Peering around at all the doors lining the hallway, you inch through the second story until the scent of sleep is strongest; hanging heavily in the air like rain after a summer storm. But… the room it appears to be emanating from has lights on, does it not? You duck back into the welcoming shadows warily, hands perched on the smooth wooden doorframe. Perhaps somebody just fell asleep having forgotten to turn them off. Yet you still held your doubts; the sudden encounter with the skeleton still fresh on your mind- you hadn’t even noticed him in the room, not until he decided to acknowledge you. Better safe than sorry, and hadn’t you already collected plenty of magic; humming through your skin and singing in your veins, any more was pretty unnecessary. Satisfied with your solidarity, you scoot back from the entryway.

The rug is pleasant beneath your feet, providing a bit of welcomed padding to your bare soles. Shutting your eyes, you home in on the sensation of stray fibers scraping gently against your toes as you slowly shuffle further back into the cool, quiet corner. The atmosphere within this building is quite lovely, now that you’ve stopped to really experience it. Hints of slumber lazily fluff about your body, perfectly tempting- but you’re satiated with magic as is, any more would be greedy. You open your eyes and turn around to leave, the floor creaking gently beneath your feet. Pausing at the window, the moon no longer sits full and fat in the sky. Hints of the sun seem to crawl out onto the horizon, slowly weaving their way across the land beneath.

Time’s up, and you’re more than happy to leave. Beginning to pull yourself up onto the window’s ledge, you delicately kick off from the ground-

**“Wait.”**

Only to find your ascent halted by an unfamiliar voice.

“Please, don’t leave.” It’s very masculine, low, but steady, without a trace of fear or uncertainty.

Caught twice in one night? That’s a bit shameful. You settle back down, back pressing against the wooden paneling of the window, turning to see who now has addressed you- only to be greeted by the sight of what can only be the purest being of sunlight.

“Are you one … of them?”

He is fire, destruction, powerful- standing in the hallway, unyielding, yet forgiving- he does not burn. An old soul sits in his chest, almost achingly familiar to your own, and for some inexplicable reason you find yourself rather curious about this creature.

“I don’t think I understand what exactly you’re referring to.” Alright, maybe that came out a bit snarkier than you intended. Having been caught more than once in a night makes you feel somewhat ill prepared.

The fire-monster stands, intently looking at you. It’s almost uncomforting, the way you can feel his gaze lingering on the tools of your work, your face, your clothes, despite not having a readily apparent face. “Come downstairs with me.”

You nod lightly, slipping off from the window, and he turns to head down the very stairs you had slunk up earlier. Guiding you through the kitchen, he pulls a stool down from the countertop and motions for you to sit at the barside. “Please, have a seat.”

“It’s a bit early for a drink.” You deadpan, opting to perch on top of the well-polished countertop instead, feet dangling down. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, wandering around to on the other side. “You own this bar?”

He clears his throat, nodding. “Yes.” Despite being relatively new, all the furniture in the room looks well worn. It certainly makes things cozy. “Are you a… Dreamer?”

“Yes,” you echo his previous response. “Though nowadays we have been called ‘Dreamcatchers.’”

Humming, he stops to rub his nose- or, rather, the part of his face where his nose would his nose be.

The silence is a good opportunity to further inspect the being in front of you. He really is like a piece of sun; layers of flames seem to be the only thing composing his body. They all steadily flow and blend together, except at the very top of his blank head – where they entwine and dance, much like a traditional fire. A pair of glasses are hooked onto the neck of his shirt. “What’s your name?”

“Grillby.” He, much like the skeleton you met earlier, extends his hand to shake. You gingerly accept it, bobbing your hands up and down once before dropping once again.

“It has been a long time since I’ve seen a Dreamcatcher.” He crosses his arms, leaning forwards onto his bar. “I thought you all would’ve vanished after all this time.”

“We simply went into hiding,” you reply curtly, tapping a hand on the tarnished wood idly. “but it was long after you all were imprisoned. If humans remain ignorant of us, we cannot be interpreted as a threat to them- such as they deemed you.”

“That’s fair enough. Seeing what they’ve done to us.” Leaning back with a hum, he contentedly settles down on a stool he’s pulled over, opposite your spot on top of the counter. “You weren’t here on Ebott before, though? At the very least, I don’t remember you.”

“No. I don’t like staying in one place.” Speaking of the biases held against monsters by your kind seems like it would be… wrong, in this situation. “The old one left right after you all were freed, so I took her place.” One hand dips underneath the countertop, fingers delicately tracing the patterns in the wood. Marks and scratches silently whisper out to you, offering years of untold stories and gentle care. It’s all very appealing, for some reason. What an old soul you must be.

The way he seems to look straight into your eyes, despite your mask, sends a chill down your spine. “But will you stay? Here?”

His question feels far too intimate, for some reason. Almost as if you were signing an agreement with him, and the other beings of this region.

“… I think I shall.” Bringing your hand back up to rest softly in your lap, you shift your gaze off to the side, pretending to scrutinize a photo hanging on the wall. “The magic in this region badly needs taming. And the land is plentiful- I like making use of what grows on the mountain… though I haven’t explored that much.” It makes your intention come off less as though you were going to stay for them, and more for yourself; which brings comfort- it is not a promise, more of a speculation.

You two share a comfortable silence, with no real pressure to speak or act, the topic seeming to revive moments of a long forgotten past.

“Why do you want to speak with me?” You elect to break the silence, wondering aloud as your gaze slowly drags along the line of neatly polished glass bottles behind him.

“I… You’re old.” Noting the way you frowned at that, he quickly backs up. “So am I- it’s a matter of familiarity. Like seeing something nostalgic. But…” Grillby pauses for a moment, seeming to ponder the question himself before nodding decisively. “I suppose; it is because I wish to court you, for some odd reason.”

It’s ridiculous and old-fashioned, yet you find yourself chuckling airily all the same, letting your head fall forward, stray strands of hair framing your face. “Court _me_? Do perish the thought.”

“I shan’t,” He replies, voice tinged with amusement. “Why should I?”

You can’t seem to think of a proper rebuttal. “Well, we’ve only just met.”

“So shouldn’t we give it a try, at the very least?”

“Then, I don’t think I’ll find myself terribly interested in you.” It’s only a half-lie, but you know relationships never work out within your kind. It wouldn’t be worth the effort, in the end…

He interrupts the gentle quiet, not perturbed in the slightest. “Perhaps that will change.”

His optimism is certainly something to be admired. “Given enough time, anything can change.” You dismiss the topic with a gentle wave of your hand; and the two of you spend the rest of the morning chatting about where to find varying plants on the mountain before you finally excuse yourself to 'get some rest,' skittering back to your small home to make use of the magic you’ve collected thus far.

There’s only so many hours in a day, after all, and plenty of work lies in wait for you before the night falls once more.

**Author's Note:**

> would love some feedback  
> i quit writing this forever ago and recently picked the idea back up. curious to see what people think of it


End file.
